


The last first kiss - a series of alternate first kisses

by Poutini



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate First Kisses, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini
Summary: In which the author wanted more different soft first kisses, and so she indulged herself and wrote them.Further, that the author believed inslownotglacialand that would be reflected in how David and Patrick's physical relationship progressed from the beginning.Each chapter is a standalone story, with a different first kiss, unless otherwise indicated.  It's my fic, I do what I want.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 285
Kudos: 334





	1. Alt 3.13

**Author's Note:**

> Listen.  
> We all need some softness right now, eh?

Patrick holds the Cafe door open for David and they slip out onto the street. The air is still warm, there is little breeze, and the sky is clear from clouds. Patrick’s car is just across the street, but he’s not quite ready to say goodnight to David yet. He suggests a walk. 

Five minutes down Main Street, lamp posts are few and far between, revealing a starry sky above them. 

David stops to point out the constellations he knows - Orion’s belt, Casseopia, and the Big Dipper. He muses that the Little Dipper is so much harder to find, so Patrick musters up his courage and gently wraps his fingers around David’s wrist to direct his pointing index finger upward from the rightmost stars of the Big Dipper, trailing up to its littler counterpart. 

As David brings his arm down, Patrick slides his fingers down until they’re interlaced with David’s. Patrick’s thumb traces soft circles on David’s warm skin. 

Even in the low light, Patrick can see David’s lips twist to the side in a smile. 

They keep walking. 

The sidewalk drops off, and there’s nothing more than gravel road that frays onto the shoulder. They stand at some arbitrary edge, looking up at the stars and softly at each other. Patrick can feel himself sway towards David, pulled by magnetic force. But also, quite literally tugged closer by David pulling on their intertwined fingers. 

Patrick lets go of David’s hand, only to brace himself on David’s hip as their chests press lightly together. David’s hand cups Patrick’s jaw, the cool metal rings juxtaposed against the heat of Patrick’s flushed cheeks. He tips Patrick’s chin up. Their eyes meet for a flash before Patrick’s glance flits down to David’s lips, and that’s it. They’re kissing. 

David’s lips are incredibly soft, and they move with a slow confidence that makes Patrick’s knees want to buckle. The grip on Patrick’s jaw directs him where David wants him, and Patrick goes willingly. 

Patrick feels David pull back, and he tips forward at the loss. 

“Is this ok?” David murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to Patrick’s temple. 

Patrick nods and takes a half-step forward to close the distance between them entirely. Pressed chest to chest, Patrick wraps his arms around David’s waist, and David drapes his arms across Patrick’s shoulders. 

Their lips meet again. It’s no less earth shattering than the first time. 

Patrick feels David’s lips part, and his tongue tease at the bow of Patrick’s top lip. Patrick mirrors David, letting his tongue slip out enough to tangle lightly with David’s. 

David lets out a soft moan and Patrick’s stomach swoops at the sound. His jeans also feel uncomfortably tight. 

This time, it’s Patrick that pulls back. He takes a couple deep breaths to restore the flow of oxygen to his brain, and to steel himself to thank David for ensuring their night did not end without a kiss. Their palms press together and their fingers curl back into place as they slowly start walking back towards Patrick’s car. 

Patrick explains in admittedly scant detail that this is his first kiss with _another guy_ , and that really did feel like his first time. All the things you’re supposed to feel, well, Patrick felt them, and he’s got no regrets. Quite the opposite, it’s like a weight has been lifted. 

They stop outside their store, and for a moment, Patrick considers dragging David inside and behind the storeroom curtain, and making up for lost time. Instead, he settles for leading him up the stairs, and kissing him softly on the top step of their store. Their lips separate and reconnect, mapping each other out. Each contact becomes a little less soft and a little more heated. A little more tongue, and hands that start to wander. Patrick feels David’s hands slide into the back pocket of his jeans, and even through the mid-range denim, his grip feels searing. 

Patrick lets out a low growl, and backs David up against the wood-frame glass door. The bell inside lets out a jingle of surprise at the bump. 

Patrick presses David firmly against the door, one leg between David’s. Patrick can feel David’s erection against his hip, and he’s sure that David can feel Patrick’s hardness too. And god, he wants all of this, and he wants it now. Except it’s nearly 11 pm, on Main Street Schitt’s Creek, and the late night crowd at the Cafe will spill out onto the street any moment, and Patrick has just enough functioning brain cells to not give them a show. 

With great regret, he takes a step down, putting space between them, and offers his hand once again. 

The tenderness lingers in the air for the short drive back to the motel. Patrick's nerves return briefly, before David leans over and nips at his lower lip, and promises that they’ll pick up where they left off in the morning. But not before 10 am, because David Rose is not a morning person. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Alt 3.10

It’s the kind of wet cold that one truly understands if and only if they’ve lived in proximity to the Great Lakes. Where the calendar date and the gloomy chill outside seem out of sync. 

The rain has been falling since dusk. It’s pooling on the street, reflecting only the fading sodium streetlamp light, with the moon ensconced behind clouds. 

It is miserable. 

Patrick is miserable.

He’s caught in a cycle of feeling miserable because he has a sinking feeling David is getting cozy with  _ Sebastien _ , and berating himself for feeling miserable for something, or someone, over which he has no claim, or influence. If only he hadn’t been such a fucking  _ chicken _ when Alexis was so clearly flirting with him.

His bare feet are cold, but he’s stuck on the couch. Mentally and physically immobile. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he misses the soft knock at the front door. A second knock, a little louder, causes Patrick to rise to his feet and pad down the runner to the entryway. 

He knows he must look a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care. He can’t imagine who would venture out in this wea - 

A small gasp escapes his mouth when he opens the door. 

David is soaked. His hair is plastered to his head. His eyes are red, and he’s wringing his hands. 

“Can I come in?” he whispers, eyes downcast.

Patrick brings him into the foyer, his brow furrowing deeply. “David, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” 

David shakes his head. He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. 

Patrick opens his arms, but David rebuffs his offer. “M’soaking,” he manages, barely audible. 

He gestures for David to kick off his shoes and wait while he grabs a towel and a dry change of clothes. He hands everything to David, who looks small as he moves towards the bathroom to change. 

Patrick’s mind races, as he waits for David to return to the livingroom. 

Patrick’s mind rages, when David steps out of the bathroom with a bite mark clearly visible above the collar of Patrick’s cotton t-shirt. 

David is standing a little straighter, gently towelling off his hair. Even disheveled, in a pair of ill-fitting sweatpants and a faded concert tee, he’s still the most beautiful thing Patrick has ever seen, and it makes his heart clench. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks carefully. 

David looks towards Patrick, squinting. He gingerly navigates to the couch, sitting in the middle, next to Patrick. Turning to face Patrick, his eyes are still a little unfocused. “I, uh, cried a contact out walking here, so I just took the other one out, and I don’t have my glasses,” he explains, his voice a little clearer than before. 

“Listen, David, you don’t - “

“I couldn’t do it,” David interrupts in a rush. “I couldn’t do...him.” He slumps against the back of the couch. 

“You don’t have to expl - “

“Before I left, I smashed his camera and flushed the memory card down the toilet. He’s gone. He can’t hurt her. I just….”

David turns his body to face Patrick and looks up at him through those long lashes, clumped from the rain, and fresh tears forming in his eyes. 

“You just?” Patrick repeats softly.

David takes a deep breath. “I just...need to know.” He moves a little closer to Patrick, and the air becomes charged.

“Need to know what?” Patrick whispers, his glance dipping to David’s lips.

David closes the distance between them, his right hand cupping Patrick’s face. “This,” he breathes before their lips meet. 

The kiss is  _ everything _ . David’s lips move against Patrick’s, his left hand now on Patrick’s knee, and Patrick feels grounded with the warmth of David’s touch. Patrick’s hands gravitate towards David, one mirroring David’s left hand, and the other resting on David’s bicep. 

David changes the angle, tipping Patrick’s head a little off centre so he can kiss the tender skin beneath Patrick’s ear, trail down his neck, across his jaw, and back to his lips. 

Patrick lets out a soft sigh, and there’s a palpable shift in the room as any remaining tension dissolves. 

“Are you sure?” he murmurs against the margin of David’s mouth. 

David ghosts his lips across Patrick’s. “Easiest decision of my life.”


	3. Alt 3.11, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Olive31 and I talked about hair petting turning into *other* kinds of petting.  
> This may be continued in the next chapter. We'll see. 
> 
> Also, I literally have about 45 minutes to write each day before the husband gets home and it's a mad rush to eat, pack lunches, etc, and go to bed because we are psychopaths that exercise before work, but I promise I will get to responding to all the lovely comments! Thank you for all the kudos and nice feedback - nothing goes unnoticed!

“David, sit still. I can’t even get the shower cap off if you keep fidgeting.”

David stills briefly on the rickety wooden chair, until the anxiety ants resume marching in his blood. “What do I do if you find something?” he worries out loud.

Patrick places a soothing hand on David’s right shoulder. “Then I’ll be here, and we’ll get through it together.”

The touch seems to calm David enough that Patrick can slip off the toque and shower cap, revealing the shock of tangled black hair underneath. 

Patrick runs his fingers through the hair, raising it from flat to a more manageable mess. It’s soft. Softer than Patrick had imagined. And there’s a faint scent of sage and sandalwood that reaches Patrick’s nose. He’s glad he’s behind David, as he closes his eyes for a brief moment on a slow inhale. 

Patrick starts sifting through the strands, dutifully checking for nits, and updating David as he goes. He can feel the tension in David’s shoulders start to release with each pass, and each reassurance that no lice have taken up residence in his scalp. 

It doesn’t take long. But Patrick is really enjoying drawing his fingers through David’s locks, and by the sounds David is making, so is he. 

_The sounds_. David probably isn’t even aware that he’s occasionally letting out sounds that would normally be heard whilst one is wearing significantly less clothing, though perhaps at a lower decibel just now. Patrick is really glad he’s behind David as the sounds make him flush, make sweat bead on his nose, and make him wish he’d worn pants that were a little less tight. 

When David’s head drops back and into Patrick’s touch, a groan escapes unbidden from Patrick’s mouth, and David freezes. 

“Patrick?” he whispers, head still lolled back, his eyes closed.

Patrick clears his throat and draws his hands back to rest lightly on David’s shoulders. “There’s no...lice, David. You’re clear.” 

David tips his head to the side, nudging Patrick’s hand. “Mmmmk. Can you keep going though?”

If ever there was a moment where it was possible Patrick Brewer might actually spontaneously combust, this was it. But science being what it is, instead he took a deep breath, and slowly traced one hand back up into David’s hair, while the other moved so he could trace gentle circles on the nape of David’s neck with his thumb. 

David’s skin is impossibly soft. Patrick brushes his thumb back and forth over the border of David’s hairline, and his fingers find the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. So soft, and so rough, and driving Patrick wild in equal measure. 

He grows more bold as his fingers ran through David’s hair over and over. He closed his eyes again, and imagined instead that David was on his knees, taking Patrick deep in his mouth, shown where to go by Patrick’s grip. He’d move David just a little to the left where he liked it, tipping David’s head up so his cock would bump up against the roof of David’s mouth. 

David lets out a little gasp and Patrick breaks out of his reverie to find his hold has tightened. 

“Sorry,” he manages, hoarse from his throat long since gone dry. 

David moves to stand and Patrick takes a step back, afraid he has crossed a boundary. 

Instead, David turns, closes the distance and confidently wraps his right hand around Patrick’s jaw. Patrick only has a moment to notice the cool metal of David’s rings against his burning skin, before David kisses him. It’s so brief, and so chaste, and David pulls back far too quickly. 

“Thank you,” David murmurs. 

“For what?” Patrick asks, his hands now gripping David’s hips. 

David pauses, his face scrunched up, a little unsure. Hope in his eyes, but Patrick knows, nervousness in his heart. Patrick’s left hand draws back up into David’s hair, brushing strands back from his face, tucking some back behind his ear, waiting patiently for David to finish. 

“Um, I was getting a little nervous that that was never going to happen, so uh, thank you for helping make that happen for us.”

Patrick can’t help but let out a small laugh. He’s thought about kissing his business partner for literal weeks, and now, he can. 

He slides his hand down to cup the back of David’s head firmly as he brings him back in for a kiss. David’s mouth moves confidently, making acquaintance with Patrick’s lips, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. 

Patrick doesn’t even try to stop the noises coming from deep within him. “Oh god, David, I’ve wanted this...you...for so long…” He takes the initiative to satisfy the curiosity of what David’s stubble would feel like scraped against his face as he explores down David’s neck. He stops to take a deep inhale as he presses kisses behind David’s ear. He notices a small constellation of freckles behind the shell, and immediately claims them as his own. He lavishes a few more kisses there before moving back down David’s neck, and tugging his sweater collar out of the way to expose his collarbone. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” David objects. “Careful with the cashmere! If we’re going to continue this, I’ll just take it off!”

Patrick’s eyes darken. “Take off the sweater, David.”

...continued next chapter...


	4. Alt 3.11, part deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> picks up where the previous chapter left off

David pulls the sweater of his head and carefully folds it before placing it on the desk. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt underneath and Patrick’s eyes are transfixed. His hands itch. His fingers flex. He wants to touch. He wants to see what’s underneath. 

As if he could read Patrick’s mind, David strips his t-shirt off and drapes it over his sweater. Patrick is pretty sure his jaw has actually hit the floor as he takes in the sight of David’s finely groomed hairy chest. He can’t stop himself from moving forward to thread his fingers through the silky black sprouts. 

David makes no effort to stifle a groan, and a wave of heat washes across Patrick’s skin. 

David is being so patient, letting Patrick explore, but Patrick wants David to touch him, too.

He takes a step back and starts to unbutton his shirt, making it two buttons down before David swats his hand away. 

David’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and there’s a devious smile lurking just below the surface. “Let me,” he insists, moving to slowly undo Patrick’s shirt. 

Patrick watches as David’s heated gaze follows his fingers down until all the buttons are undone. David’s hands, with those slender fingers, slip under the collar and down Patrick’s shoulders, moving the shirt to slide off and onto the floor. David’s hands don’t stop for long, palming Patrick’s bare skin where it flushes, and tracing it delicately with his fingertips where goosebumps pop up. 

Patrick’s lips are feeling bereft of kisses, like he’s starving and the only thing that will satisfy are David’s lips on his own. He surges forward hungrily, and David meets him halfway. Their mouths move against each other naturally, finding a rhythm, a routine, choreography that leaves them both panting. 

Patrick’s hands rub up and down David’s flank. He rakes his nails along the sensitive skin, and drags his thumb across David’s peaked nipple, swallowing the gasp as David reacts to his touch. He can’t believe he had it so wrong for so long and this is  _ everything _ and he just can’t -

The clatter of keys on the counter downstairs paralyzes David and Patrick. 

A voice calls out up the stairs. “Patrick?’

_ Damn it.  _


	5. Alt 3.12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else could have happened after the opening day hug?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're two 30-ish year old men. I think mouths and hands would have happened pretty damn fast.

They’re pressed chest to chest, wrapped up in each other’s arms and Patrick’s chin tucks perfectly on David’s shoulder, the scratch of the mohair bristling against his skin. His heart is racing and he wonders if David can feel it rattling against his ribcage. 

_ This is a really long hug _ . 

The scent of David’s cologne is faint, and Patrick wants to turn his head like ten degrees to the left, bury his nose in David’s neck, and taste the warm skin along his jaw. Instead, he focuses on the feel of the sweater beneath his palms as he rubs up and down David’s upper back. 

He feels David finally release, but just enough to pull back to see Patrick’s face. His hands resting on Patrick’s biceps, and his expression unreadable. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Patrick whispers between them. And he really is. Seeing David’s vision for the store come alive and be celebrated by the town today was a thrill, and he was so, so happy for David. 

“I’m proud of  _ us _ ,” David replies, his expression softening. 

The corners of Patrick’s mouth twitch into a small smile, and they stand there, still lightly in each others’ embrace, neither moving, their eyes searching the other for  _ something _ .

David’s glance slips down to Patrick’s lips and back up to his eyes. Patrick senses him move a fraction closer. One of David’s hands slides back up Patrick’s arm, over his shoulder, and boldly cups his jaw. 

Patrick feels like he is burning up, and David’s rings feel cool against his skin. His fingers flex on David’s hips, as David shifts until their lips are so close he can feel David’s whispered words as much as he can hear them. 

“I really want there to be an  _ us _ , and I think you do, too.” 

Patrick only manages to nod once before they’re kissing. It starts chaste. Soft. But it’s been an emotionally charged day, and soon, all the energy and pent up tension of the last few weeks is pouring out between them as lips part, and tongues explore, and David backs Patrick up against the counter. 

The wood digs into Patrick’s back, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s  _ fucking kissing David Rose _ \- and it’s more than he had imagined it, every night in his bed for the last two months. He’s overwhelmed with the feel of David’s lips on his own, the softness of David’s hair, the scratch of his stubble, the planes of muscle where Patrick’s hands dare to roam. 

David’s hands move confidently, and in a show of strength he  _ fucking picks Patrick up _ and sits him on the counter. 

Patrick’s brain goes momentarily off-line. 

David steps between his legs, bracing his hands on Patrick’s thighs and resumes kissing him senseless. 

It isn’t until the sconce behind the counter flickers that they realize they’re completely visible to any passersby, and they stop. 

“Did you call the electrician?” David asks, eyeing the flickering light suspiciously. 

“Uh, I forgot...so I watched a YouTube tutorial?” Patrick admits sheepishly. 

David just nods. But there’s a glint in his eyes. He steps away from Patrick and moves behind the counter to reach the lightswitch, plunging the store into darkness. He feels his way back to the front, and slots himself back between Patrick’s legs. 

Rather than resume kissing, his hands trail down Patrick’s chest, untucking his button up with a tug. His fingers skirt along Patrick’s belt, coming to rest above the buckle.

“Is this ok?”

Patrick manages a breathless “yes” and David unbuckles his belt, undoes the top button and slowly unzips Patrick’s jeans. 

Patrick feels David’s lips kiss his exposed belly. He nips at Patrick’s skin, and licks it gently to soothe. 

Patrick feels him tug his pants open, and a soft hand dips beneath the band of his boxers, and takes a hold of his cock. Patrick gasps. His hips jump in response to the touch, every nerve alight. David strokes him a few times, lightly, just a tease, before he finally stands up straight seeking a kiss, leaving his hand down Patrick’s boxers, unmoving. This kiss is searing. Filled with want. They pull back panting. 

“Can I make you come?” David murmurs against Patrick’s neck.

Patrick can only nod, but he knows David can feel it and understands. 

David’s mouth returns to Patrick’s body, this time with a sense of purpose. He removes his hand from Patrick’s boxers, just long enough to shimmy Patrick’s bottoms down enough to free his cock, and then his hand is wrapped around the base again. Patrick lets out a groan as he takes in the sight of his cock in another man’s hand. And not just any man.  _ David. _

He watches as David strokes him, finding the ridges and patches that make him moan and twitch, and as David takes him into his mouth, his lips stretched, yet still smiling. Patrick’s eyes roll into the back of his head as the heat and wetness of David’s mouth overwhelms him. 

On instinct, Patrick’s hands move to David’s head, his fingers lacing timidly in his locks. David’s free hand reaches up and closes Patrick’s grip, tightening his hold in David’s hair. David lets out a groan at the sensation, and the vibrations ripple up Patrick’s cock and cause him to cant forward. 

David keeps his mouth on him, bobbing up and down as he strokes near the base, and Patrick has never felt this amazing before in his life. He can feel his orgasm build and build and build and it slams into him like a tidal wave. He cries out, chanting David’s name and a litany of calls to a variety of deities. David rides him through it, his tongue lapping gently at the underside of Patrick’s cock, where he’s already learned Patrick is the most sensitive. When Patrick is just on the verge of oversensitive, Patrick releases his hands from David’s hair, David pulls off gently and leaves Patrick’s spent cock against the fabric of his boxers. 

He looks up at Patrick, a little shyly. Patrick grins, and his hands move to pull David up for a kiss. He can taste himself on David’s tongue and he wonders what David would taste like on his. He pulls back and checks his watch. It’s still early, the Cafe is open for another two hours, so Patrick decides there’s no time like the present to find out. He hops off the counter and pulls David into the stockroom, closing the curtain behind them. 


	6. Alt 3.11, David stays at Patrick's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which David stays with Patrick, not Stevie, to avoid catching the lice.

They’ve managed to take turns using the bathroom, change into their pyjamas in the other’s absence, and negotiate positioning themselves under the covers with a minimum of awkwardness. There’s no reason why two grown men can’t share a bed for one night - even if they are two grown men who have been pathetically pining for each other for weeks on end. 

They’re back to back with a few inches between them, each with the covers tucked up tight under their chins, trying their best to regulate their breathing and slip into sleep. 

It’s not working. 

Patrick turns over onto his back, and David follows suit moments later, sitting up slightly and fluffing his pillow before sinking back down into the bed.

“Can’t sleep?” Patrick asks in a low voice. 

David shook his head. “Nope.”

“Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?” Patrick teases.

David turns onto his side, facing Patrick. He tucks his hands under his cheek. “Yes,” he volleys back with a smirk, just to see how Patrick will respond. 

Patrick turns to mirror David, propping himself up on one elbow. He clears his throat. 

“Well,” he starts.

“That’s not how it goes,” David interrupts cheekily.

“Listen, David. This is my story.” Patrick clears his throat again. “Fine. Once upon a time, in a land far away, lived a boy with an unusual love of business and the colour blue.”

A small giggle from David is cut short by a quick glare from Patrick. “Sorry, carry on.”

“One day, the boy in blue met another boy, who wore almost exclusively black, with high hair and eyebrows to match, and a harried passion for supporting local artisans and producers in a one-stop consignment store benefiting both the vendor and consumer.”

Patrick smirks at David, waiting a beat before continuing. 

“The boy in blue and the boy in black saw in each other something they were missing, and they grew their friendship as they grew their store.”

David shifts a little closer. 

“Each day, the boy in blue felt a little more whole. Filling in cracks he didn’t even know existed. Answering questions he’d been too afraid to ask.”

A warm hand lands on his forearm. “Patrick,” David says softly. 

“David,” Patrick murmurs.

Patrick looks at David, his eyes fond. David’s eyes are shining, lit only by a sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains. Patrick’s glance dips to David’s lips, and it’s all the confirmation David needs to close the distance between them and kiss Patrick tenderly. David’s lips are freshly moisturized and so, so soft. They move against Patrick’s with a gentle confidence.

Without breaking the kiss, David lies back, and draws Patrick partially on top of him. Their lips explore a little more, before the need for air becomes urgent. 

Catching a breath, Patrick can’t help himself. “Do you want me to continue the story?”

David shakes his head, and pulls Patrick back down. They trade soft kisses as the moon rises in the sky, until breaks for breath turn into yawns, and the number of available hours of sleep are few. Shifting to lie knee to knee, they finally drift to dream, hands clasped between them. 


	7. Another alt 3.13, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Similar to Chapter 1, with a twist that will occur in the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d apologize for this being to similar in principle to chapter 1, but I’ve already said that a) this is self-indulgent and b) I do what I want.
> 
> You can anticipate the similarities to the first chapter will continue in the next posting, but it will take a different turn. Don’t worry. No angst.

Ok, so it  _ was  _ a date. 

The air is warm, but the brush of Patrick’s hand as he ushers David out of the cafe causes a shiver up David’s spine. David starts towards Patrick’s car, taking a few steps before he realizes Patrick hasn’t moved. He’s still standing in front of the cafe, his hands shoved adorably in his front pockets. 

“Want to go for a walk?” 

David traces his steps back, and they head down the sidewalk. The number of lampposts dwindle, and the starry sky above reveals itself. 

In all his travels, and his time in New York, David had never seen so many stars as he routinely could, mere steps away from his room at the motel. The simple pleasure of watching the arrangement of constellations rotate across the sky had gotten him through a number of lonely nights when the Rose family first arrived. 

David slows to a stop, pointing out Cassiopeia, the queen who bragged about her unrivalled beauty and Orion, the hunter, both in Greek mythology. He gestures to Ursa Major, with its multiple meanings across multiple cultures, and laments that Ursa Minor is so much harder to locate, even on a new moon and away from any light pollution. 

Patrick takes a step towards David, and gently grips his wrist. He moves David’s finger to trace up from Ursa Major to Polaris to Ursa Minor, a trick he learned in Boy Scouts decades earlier. 

A thrill courses through David’s body when Patrick lowers their hands down, and interlaces their fingers. 

They continue past where the sidewalk ends, and the road turns to gravel. This time, it’s Patrick who stops them, tugging lightly on David’s hand to pull him back. 

David goes willingly when Patrick draws him tight to his chest. He wraps his arms over Patrick’s shoulders, and Patrick’s arms circle David’s waist.

David feels Patrick tuck himself into his neck, take a deep inhale, and then turn slightly to press a soft kiss against the skin. David’s breath hitches and Patrick stills.

David pulls back, just far enough to see Patrick’s face. There’s a heartbeat of silence and then David’s fingers have found their way up to tangle in the short hairs at the nape of Patrick’s neck, and they’re kissing.

It is electrifying. And terrifying. Both in the best way. David has kissed a thousand people, but it’s never felt like this. 

Patrick rucks up David’s lightning bolt sweater slightly, his hands moving to rest on the bare skin of his lower back. Every nerve ending in David’s skin is alight, where Patrick touches. Where Patrick’s hands trail up and down his back, where his lips meet David’s over and over and over again.

It’s a lot. And David needs to breathe. The whine that escapes Patrick when he takes a step back tells him that Patrick is just as affected as he is.

David interlaces their fingers again and starts slowly walking back towards Patrick’s car. But this time, the walk isn’t punctuated by narratives about celestial bodies. It takes five times as long because they each, in turn, cause the other to stall, distracted by soft kisses, as though making up for lost time. 


	8. Another alt 3.13, part deux

The push and pull and exchange of kisses ceases when they reach the front of the store. Patrick follows when David climbs the three steps, unwilling to let go of his hand. 

David wraps his hand around Patrick’s jaw, and their lips find each other again. The kiss starts tender, but the emotion of the evening, standing on the steps of the store they’ve built together, sparks a fire in Patrick. One that he’d confess later to not even knowing could exist within him. 

David lets out a small gasp as Patrick crowds up against him, mouthing at his neck, down his collarbone, pushing his sweatshirt out of the way to expose more skin. Patrick walks David backwards until they bump up against the door - the glass rattles in the wood frame, startling the bell that hangs above. 

“Wait, wait,” David pants, as he snags his key from his pocket, opening the door. They enter the store, locking the door behind them, and immediately Patrick is seeking contact again. 

Patrick’s eyes are wild and little unfocused, and his hair is no longer neatly styled, but sticking up in several directions, and David can’t resist a small smile knowing that’s his handiwork. 

David leads them through the dark store behind the curtain leading to the storeroom. Away from the prying eyes of the late night Cafe crowd, soon to be spilling into the street. David turns on the small lamp on Patrick’s desk, casting a dim, amber glow in the room. 

Patrick crashes into David, tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt, pressing his lips anywhere he can find skin. Without overthinking, David pulls the garment off, taking his undershirt with it. 

Patrick stills only for a second before he does the same, shucking his blazer and top. He presses a hand to David’s chest, keeping a bit of distance between them. David quickly realizes, however, that it’s not so much to keep distance, but because Patrick is exploring his chest, running his fingers through the hair, swiping around his nipples. Patrick lets out a groan as he surges forward, kissing the freckled skin on David’s shoulders, moving back up to that spot on David’s neck, and up behind his ear. 

David’s hands rub up Patrick’s sides. He’s nearly hairless in comparison to David, and even in the dim light of the back room, David can see the flush rising on his pale skin. 

They’re kissing again, enthusiastic lips and tongues, and hands roaming over skin, and David’s mind is swimming, or drowning in possibilities. He’s wanted this since the second time he went to Ray’s and walked in to find Patrick bent over a table, that  _ ass _ on display, and oh,  _ god, that ass _ that he can now grip, causing Patrick to inhale sharply against his neck. 

David presses their lower halves together, feeling how long and hard Patrick is against his leg, and he wants to see him. Wants to touch, wants to know what Patrick looks like, what Patrick sounds like when he comes. It’s quickly becoming a need as David’s skin feels like it is burning up with desire. 

David’s hands slide along Patrick’s belt and stop at the buckle. “Can I?” he murmurs against Patrick’s lips. 

Patrick starts to nod slowly, but David can tell there’s a hesitance. And then it all comes rushing out. 

**It’s his first time with a man.**

_ Oh no.  _ David’s forehead thunks against Patrick’s shoulder. 

**He never knew it could feel like this.**

_ Oh. No? Funny, me neither,  _ David thinks as he lifts his head, and an eyebrow, as Patrick continues. 

**He’s wanted this at least as long as David has, and he’s sure, so sure and he’s never felt so right as in this moment, skin to skin with David.**

_ Oh wow _ .

**And he doesn’t want to rush things, but he’s thirty fucking years old and his body has come alive more in the last hour than it had in all the hours that came before, and so yeah, if David wants to take his pants off, yes, the answer is yes, a thousand times yes.**

David makes quick work of Patrick’s jeans, leaving his boxers on for the moment. 

Whispering soft affirmations in Patrick’s ear about the alluring planes of his body and soft, kissable skin, David traces the outline of Patrick’s cock with one finger, over the fabric of his boxers. Patrick’s hips buck forward of their own volition and a moan that David wishes he could record and play on repeat, use as his text alert, slips out of Patrick’s mouth. 

David’s thumb dips below the waistband of Patrick’s boxers, and he looks for confirmation. Patrick draws his bottom lip between his teeth and nods. 

David slips Patrick’s boxers down, gently over his straining erection. Freed, it bobs slightly, and David lets the underwear drop to the floor in favour of wrapping his hand around Patrick’s cock. It’s so hard, but the skin is so soft, and David strokes it slowly, as if committing the ridges to memory. 

He gathers Patrick in his arms, pressing their chests together, with one arm around Patrick’s waist, and the other between them. Patrick burrows his face in David’s neck, his breath speeding up as he thrusts into David’s fist, his arms wrapped around David’s trunk, hanging on for dear life. David can feel, more than he can hear, Patrick’s soft moans of pleasure, and it spurs him on, increasing the timing of his hand on Patrick’s cock. 

David can tell Patrick is close. He slows his hand, and turns to take Patrick’s ear lobe gently between his teeth. “Look at me,” he implores Patrick. “I want to see you come, baby.”

The endearment rips a groan from Patrick. He stands up a little taller, his hands come up to either side of David’s face. His gaze is fixed on David, and it is  _ intense _ . David resumes stroking Patrick, playing him like an instrument long since mastered, and he’s entranced by the way Patrick is struggling to keep his glassy eyes open, to keep his head from tipping forward. His mouth goes a little slack, and syllables that sound like variations of  _ David _ and words of praise range from whimpers to shouts, but he keeps his hands in place, and his eyes on David, even as his orgasm slams through him like a freight train. 

David gentles Patrick through it, and leads him to sit on the couch, while he pops into the bathroom for some damp paper towels. Out of sight, he can’t resist sampling a tiny taste of Patrick’s release, and well, it’s clearly no birthday cake, but good god, what a treat.


	9. Somewhere, sometime 3.09 - 3.11 ish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, seriously, I don't know how many alternate scenarios I can come up with for alternate first kisses, but y'all can either blame or thank Olive31 who has fed me a couple of ideas on the Tumblrs, including this one. 
> 
> All that to say, ideas welcome. I thought I was already drawing blood from a stone, but well, here were are, still writing.

Patrick feels _so fucking stupid_. His cheeks burn with embarrassment, almost enough to distract him from the tingle on his lips left from _kissing David Rose_ . He should have known better. Seriously. Any 30-year old with a fibre of common sense would know that playing _suck and blow_ with your business partner, his sister, and his best friend is a colossally bad idea, destined to end in disaster. And by disaster, he means the best damn kiss of his life, and it wasn’t even intentional, or for him, but an accident, caused by the drop of the ace of spades. 

He sits on the front steps of the store, thankful that the sun has set, and that city council has yet to replace the streetlamp above him, so he can wallow in the unseasonably cool, dark air in private, though not nearly as invisible as he’d like. 

Stevie interrupts his wallowing, with the offer of a bottle of water, and a piece of advice that he should probably just talk to David, but Patrick shrugs it off, staring somewhere off into the distance. 

Alexis tries, too, as she and Stevie leave the store to head back to the motel, but Patrick just scrubs his hands over his face, and averts his eyes as she insists that he has nothing to worry about and that he should probably go back inside. 

Patrick’s eyes remain downcast even when David finally slips out the front door and joins him on the steps. He jerks away when David reaches out and places a hand on his forearm, and it makes David sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” David says, his voice quiet and resigned. “I should never have - “

“David, it’s fine,” Patrick snaps, finally looking up to meet David’s eyes. Seeing the hurt in David’s eyes reflected back at him, Patrick immediately regrets the harshness of the interruption. He clamps his mouth shut again, and looks away. 

Patrick can hear David inhale as though he’s going to speak, then stop. There’s a pregnant pause, and David does it again. Then there’s a small voice. “I did it on purpose. I dropped the card on purpose.”

Patrick manages a more measured reaction. “What?” he asks, a little incredulously, slowly turning his head to look at David again. The edges of David’s gaze have softened, as though he’s dropped his defenses. 

“I, uh, really wanted to kiss you, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. So I gave Stevie two bottles of wine to suggest play _suck and blow_.”

Something that feels a little like hope unfurls in Patrick’s chest, but his brain goes a little offline. “You, you, _wanted_ to kiss me? You _want_ to kiss me?” he stammers.

David’s lips twist to the side in a shy smirk, and he nods. 

Patrick’s face flushes again, the heat now from anticipation of what comes next. He moves infinitesimally closer to David, and David closes the distance, gently cupping Patrick’s jaw. As their lips ghost against each other, David whispers “I’m so sorry,” one more time before apologizing with the softest of kisses. Patrick lets out a whimper as he shuffles closer, tangling his fingers into the hair at the back of David’s neck, and parting his lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Minutes pass, as they move against each other tenderly in the low light, on the front steps of the store they’ve built together. 

Finally, the need for oxygen causes them to pause. 

David interlaces their fingers, and they sit in silence, the cool air against their skin, warmed by desire, and the resolution of what they had both assumed were unrequited feelings. 

Out of nowhere, Patrick huffs out a laugh. David looks at him, confused. 

“David, did you re-enact a scene from Clueless, just so you could kiss me?” 

David’s facial expression battles between a grimace and a smirk. “Maybe?”

“As if!” Patrick giggles, as he leans in again.


	10. Alt 3.12 Sloppy Mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was suggested by a few folks, but goes out to a very special someone in my life, who was the first. He knows who he is.

“What did you say?” David asks, his voice breathy and higher-pitched than normal.

With that infuriating smirk, Patrick takes another sip of the juice, and shrugs.

“Say it again,” David dares him, closing the distance between them until close enough to smell Patrick’s smoky vetiver cologne. 

Patrick meets David’s challenge, his eyes unflinching as he lowers the juice to the counter. “I said,” he says slowly, “you have a sloppy mouth.”

David takes a step closer. “Have you been  _ paying attention _ to my mouth?” he asks in a low voice.

Patrick’s breath hitches. His glance dips briefly to David’s lips - the mouth in question - before wide eyes look back up at David, shining with something like hope. All Patrick can manage is a small nod, before David is pressed up against him, cupping Patrick’s jaw with his hand, the cool rings against Patrick’s skin, flushed from the summer heat, the exertion of an afternoon of unpacking, and the thrill of the feeling of David’s lips on his own. 

David can taste the juice on Patrick’s lips, and even more when he teases Patrick’s mouth to open up for him, slipping in, sliding against Patrick’s teeth before tangling gently with his tongue. David feels Patrick melt against him and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Patrick’s shoulders to bring him in tight. He feels Patrick’s arms snake around his waist, one hand rubbing up under David’s sweater, causing goosebumps as Patrick palms the bare skin. Their lips move in sync with each other, teasing, backing off, tenderly searching, each press expressing desire, need, and tension that had been steadily building between them.

Finally, Patrick pulls back, his lips swollen, his face scrubbed red from David’s stubble, and a grin threatening to split his face in two. “Do you still want some juice?” he teases. 

David shakes his head, trying to unscramble his brain and regain the ability to speak. His lips twist to the side, biting back a laugh. “Do you still think I have a sloppy mouth?”

“Mmm. Definitely,” Patrick murmurs, as he twists his fingers into the soft hair at the back of David’s neck, and pulls him back in for a kiss. 


	11. In between 3.11 and 3.12

Patrick sees him coming. Sees the smile, and the arm reach out to drape across David’s shoulders as he leans in and plants a kiss square on the lips of a very surprised David. 

“David, _hiiiii_ ,” he says smoothly. 

David smiles, but it’s the smile that Patrick has come to recognize as being more of a grimace. “Jake. Hi.”

Patrick watches as Jake slides into the booth next to David and presses close to David’s side. “David, how are you? Who is this?”

Patrick reaches across the table and offers his hand. “Patrick. David’s business partner.” 

David gestures to the food in front of them. “We’re having a business lunch. Big day tomorrow - the store is opening. You should come.”

“Oh, I heard about that from Stevie,” Jake drawls, the cadence of his speech driving Patrick to clench his fists under the table. “Maybe I’ll stop by.” He winks at Patrick, picks a fry off David’s plate, and slides out of the booth and the door, as slippery as he had entered. 

Patrick’s pretty sure he’s not doing a very good job of schooling his facial expression as he watches Jake leave. When he turns to look at David, he finds his business partner wrapped up in a smirk. 

“Admiring the view?” David teases. 

Patrick feels his cheeks flush. “ _What?_! No.”

David nods cheekily. “Someone looks jealous!” The last word drawn out about four syllables too long. 

Patrick’s face feels like it’s on fire, right up to the tips of his ears. “David,” he says firmly, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. 

David chuckles and picks up his fork. 

***

The afternoon passes in a bit of a blur, finalizing preparations for the store’s opening. So much so that David doesn’t really realize until nearly the end of the day that Patrick has been offering monosyllabic answers to his questions, and avoiding eye contact since lunch. Truth be told, Patrick’s mind had been stuck in a vicious cycle of replaying  _ that _ kiss, and focusing on the application of labels, the folding of sweaters and the cataloguing of inventory were the only things keeping him from losing his mind, confessing his feelings, and pinning David up against the exposed brick wall in the backroom. 

He’s just adding the cat hair scarves into the POS system when David calls his name, a little softer, and a little less teasingly than Patrick would have expected. Patrick looks up at David, his eyes a little weary. 

“Um, it’s ok...if you’re a little jealous. Jake’s a...nice enough guy. If you’d like, I could maybe set you two up?”

Patrick groans, places his elbows on the counter and his face in his hands. “ _Oh my god_ , David.”

“What?” David exclaims. “I’m just trying to help!”

Patrick can’t even look up. His speech a little muffled from where he’s hiding in his hands. “David. I don’t want to go on a date with Jake.”

“Ok…” David’s says softly “It’s just...you seemed really upset when he kissed me.” David’s voice trails off as he finishes the sentence slowly, as though maybe he’s starting to realize what’s really going on. 

Patrick stands up, and braces himself on the counter. “David, can’t you tell?” His eyes are wide, beseeching. 

David shakes his head slowly, but there’s a blush pinking his cheeks, and he bites his lower lip.

Patrick comes out from behind the counter to be closer to David. “Can’t you tell that  _ I _ wanted to be the one kissing you?” he asks, unsure if he really wants the answer. “ _ Not _ the one kissing Jake,” he adds for clarity. 

David’s lower lip slips from between his teeth, as his mouth forms a small O. “You did? You  _ do?” _

Patrick’s eyes are downcast. “Yeah, listen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, and I’m sorry if that’s gonna make things awk - “

The last thing Patrick sees before the fireworks behind his eyes are David’s feet move closer until they’re practically bracketing his own. A warm hand draws his jaw up, and a soft pair of lips find his mouth, and he feels the axis of his world shift even as the ground feels unsteady. The flush returns, but it warms him up from the inside, rather than threatening to fan the flames of embarrassment. 

The kiss is by all accounts relatively brief. They’re not separated for more than a few seconds before Patrick wants more, but he needs to say something first. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Um...I’ve never done that before...with a guy. And uh, I was getting a little scared that I was gonna let someone else kiss you without us having done that, so, uh, thank you for making that happen for us.”

“Well, fortunately, I am a very generous person, so - “

“David.”

“Mmmhmm?”

“Kiss me again.”


	12. I dunno, somewhere between 3.08 and 3.12...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnd that's enough of that!  
> Thanks for all the lovely kudos and comments and prompts! 
> 
> There's another alt-first idea gnawing away at my brain, and then I REALLY need to work on FO prompts.  
> Stay tuned!

David would regret volunteering to be the designated driver tonight, but for two things:

  1. The warm weight of Patrick’s body against his, as he helped his stumbling ass to the car; and
  2. The way Patrick had curled up in the passenger seat and immediately fallen asleep, and the adorable, but unintelligible sounds, he was making in his slumber. 



The car safely in park, David indulges himself for a moment, looking at the slack and peaceful face of his business partner next to him. There’s still a hint of sweat teasing a curl out of his sideburns, and his shirt is askew, revealing a bit of a flush across his collarbones. He’s beautiful, and David’s heart aches with the desire to wake him with a press of lips to his temple, and gentle brush of his fingers through his hair. 

Instead, David softly calls Patrick’s name until he wakes up, at first a little dazed. He looks at David, looks down at his left hand, and back at David, a frown working its way across his face.

“Everything ok?” David asks.

Patrick just nods, opens the door handle, and moves to get out of the car. He wobbles a bit. Three steps away from the car, he wobbles some more. This time, David is by his side in a flash. Patrick melts into David’s side as they make their way up the sidewalk. His head is tucked in the crook of David’s neck, and he’s murmuring something against David’s skin.

He pulls back a fraction. “Didja hear me?” he slurs. 

David just shakes his head, and keeps them moving forward. 

“I had a dream we got  _ married _ , David.”

David freezes. His words are slurred, but there’s no mistaking...well,  _ that. _

“An’ we were soooo happy. Anyway, I know you wouldn’ marry meeee, but it was a nice dream.”

David’s heart breaks a little. But Patrick is drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying, and David just needs to get him safely inside, and then he can catastrophize back at the motel, under the spray of a hot shower.

***

If Patrick is hungover the next day, he is hiding it well. In fact, he’s been hyper productive since he arrived at 9:30, entering product into the POS software, affixing labels, and even taking a toothbrush to the subway tile in the bathroom. 

David hopes he has no recollection of the conversation from the night before. 

***

By the third day after Patrick’s drunken dream, the lack of resolution is eating David alive. They’re eating lunch, in their typical companionable silence, when David snaps.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t marry you?”

Patrick swallows. “I’m sorry?”

“The other night. You had a dream. And then you said you knew I wouldn’t marry you.”

Patrick nods slowly, as if recollecting the memory. “It’s fine, David. It was just a dream, I’d just read Red White and Royal Blue, so my brain just ran with it.”

“Okay, but - “

“Don’t worry about it. I know I’m not your type.”

David’s jaw visibly drops, but Patrick keeps talking. 

“I mean, you’re... _ you _ ...and I’m just... _ me _ , and - “

“Oh my god!” David finally interjects, jumping up from his chair. “Do you honestly not have any idea how infuriatingly hot you are? You’re  _ smart _ , and  _ funny _ , and I can only imagine what you’re hiding under those button ups with how you handle heavy boxes, and your  _ hands _ , god, your hands...I mean they could benefit from some moisturizer - “

“Do you?” Patrick interrupts.

David huffs in frustration. “Do I...what?”

“Imagine what’s under this button up?” And there’s that smirk that David adores.

David’s lips quirk to the side. He can’t make eye contact with Patrick as he nods. His eyes shift back to centre, however, when Patrick moves into his space. 

“I want to kiss you, David. Can I kiss you?” Patrick whispers. 

Another nod. 

Patrick’s arms snake around David’s waist, and David’s arms wrap around Patrick’s shoulders,  as if they already know they belong there. 

There’s a hesitancy when their lips meet for the first time, but it lasts just a moment before they’re moving in sync with each other, just like they have in every other way since they first started working together. David’s the first to deepen the kiss, pouring into it every assurance he can that he has wanted this for weeks. Patrick leans into it, the rapid beating of his heart reciprocating the  _ yes yes yes  _ he can feel pounding in David’s chest. 

Parting for a breath, Patrick tucks himself into David’s neck like he had after the night at the Wobbly Elm. This time, David feels him take a deep inhale of his scent before pressing a kiss to the skin. His lips vibrate against David’s skin as he murmurs “Really, David? Infuriatingly hot?”

Unwinding one arm, he tips Patrick’s chin up again, ghosts his lips against Patrick’s. “Mmhmm, and _I can’t fucking wait to see what’s under this button up_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Against my better judgment I have joined the tumblr where you can yell at me about fics and I will shamelessly self-promote to probably a very small audience.
> 
> [ cheesecurdsgravyandfries ](https://cheesecurdsgravyandfries.tumblr.com/)


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